


Happy Fucking Valentines Day

by kelseycurtis



Category: The Walking Dead (Comics), The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Cancer, Cheating, Explicit Language, F/M, Heavy Angst, Negan (Walking Dead) Being an Asshole
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-28
Updated: 2019-01-28
Packaged: 2019-10-18 09:33:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17578358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kelseycurtis/pseuds/kelseycurtis
Summary: A small one shot (I know Im posting this very early) for a Tumblr writing challenge.Negan has the ability to make Valentines day they worst holiday for Lucille. (Serious angst)





	Happy Fucking Valentines Day

Lucille’s P.O.V

I glanced at the clock for the tenth time this evening. He was two hours late home. He’d told me this morning he’d be home around five. It was now seven. Dinner was cold, and it seemed like I’d wasted my time in trying to make a nice fucking dinner for him. On Valentine’s day too. Way too go Negan. He hadn’t bothered to answer my calls or texts. This was officially the worst Valentine’s day. And not just because he was two hours late home. The drive to work wasent that long and even if traffic were bad he would have been half an hour at the most. He normally didn’t have paperwork on Wednesdays, so he couldn’t use that excuse. It didn’t take a genius to work out why he was so late. And this wasn’t the first time either. 

I sighed, rubbing my eyes. Fuck him. I got up from the table and cut myself a portion of lasagne to put in the microwave. I set the timer and leant against the kitchen counter, waiting for it to heat up. It was then that I heard the familiar sound of his key in the lock. Now he shows up. And this time I was done being the stupid blind wife. Negan came in with an apologetic look on his face.   
“I know I’m an asshole for being this late, on Valentines day too,” he spoke.   
He met my gaze, he knew this time sorry wasn’t quite going to cut it. I waited for his excuse, what lie was he going to tell me this time?   
“There was a lot of paperwork and then my car wouldn’t start so I had to call someone out to take a look at it,” Negan explained.

I raised an eyebrow, folding my arms over my chest. Really? This was by far his worst excuse to date.   
“Then why didn’t you answer my calls or texts?” I asked.  
“My phone died.”  
All of this was seeming more and more convenient.   
“And nobody had a phone you could borrow?” I continued.  
“I know how it sounds sweetheart, I’m sorry. I really am. You know I’ll make it up to you.”  
I knew there was one thing that would definitely confirm my suspicions. I stepped closer to him, holding him at arm’s length. I could already smell the fucking perfume on him, cheap perfume too. One that only a fucking student could afford. 

I slapped him hard. I wanted to keep hitting him, I wanted to scream at him. How fucking dare he?! He looked hurt and confused.  
“You fucking cheating asshole!” I spat.  
“Whoa, what the fuck? Cheating? Where the fuck did that come from?”   
“Please have some fucking decency and don’t continue to lie to my fucking face! I know its been going on for months now, I guess I just didn’t want to believe it at first, but now I guess I have no choice. Two hours late home to your fucking wife on Valentines day because you were too busy fucking a student! Your disgusting!”  
Negan sighed, looking defeated. At this point tears were rolling down my cheeks and I felt like pulling my hair out, screaming, throwing something, stamping my feet. Something to express the rage I currently felt towards my husband. 

Till death do us do part my fucking ass. This asshole fucking cheats on me and is now going to outlive me, it just wasn't fucking fair. Negan tried to hold my hands in his, but I snatched them away.   
“I never meant for it to go on as long as it did,” he explained.  
“That’s supposed to make feel better?”  
“There's nothing I can do or say right now that will make this better or fix this. I know that. I’m sorry Lucille.”  
Was this because I wasn’t good enough? I wasn’t young enough anymore, wasn’t pretty enough or as adventurous in the bedroom? Was this because I couldn’t give him a fucking baby like we’d wanted so bad? 

“I guess that you’ve told me your news, I should tell you mine. Seems only fair right?” I spoke.  
If it were possible Negan looked even more panicked at my words. What other bomb could possibly go off tonight?   
“I had an appointment at the hospital today. I did mention it to you before you left this morning but I’m guessing you had more important things on your mind,” I snapped.   
He remained silent, waiting for me to continue. I took a deep breath, trying to compose myself, trying to not sound weak.   
“T-turns out I’ve got cancer. And I'm already at stage three, which pretty much means I’m fucked,” I managed, my voice wavering and cracking.

Negan looked at me like his world had come crashing down around him. I guess it had in a way. His eyes filled with tears, unsure what to say or do. What could he do with this situation? His stupid affair was no longer a secret and his wife was now dying. Two for the price of one. At a time like this we should be comforting each other, but I didn't want him to even try to touch me.   
“I don't know what to say that'll make this better,” he spoke softly.  
“There's nothing you can say, for once. There's nothing I can say. This situation fucked.”  
“That’s one way of putting it.”

I looked him dead in the eye. I didn't want to be mad at him forever and I didnt have the time to hold it against him or make him grovel and beg. I didn't want to spend what time I had left feeling angry and bitter. We would have to move past this eventually.  
“I don't want to talk about it tonight but tomorrow I want you to tell me everything. I want you to promise me right fucking now that this affair shit is done with. You'll call it off with her tonight,” I said as calmly as I could.  
He nodded in agreement, not trying to worm his way out of it or put it off. He knew it was the right thing to do. If he wanted me to start forgiving him. 

“I'll take the couch,” he spoke.  
“That’s probably a good idea.”  
I took my dinner out of the microwave, that had finished heating up ages ago. I'd have it upstairs in bed, he could do whatever so long as that affair ended tonight.   
“Happy fucking Valentine’s day Negan,” I spoke.  
He slightly smiled at this, finding a little humour in my sentence, “happy Valentines day.”


End file.
